


Dave Strider: Jedi Jouster

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, And I don't know how this will go, Dave decided Jedis suck so he decided to take up competitive arena fighting, Earth, F/F, Gen, I really don't know what's happening here, M/M, Mute Dave Strider, Past Abuse, Semi-Mute Dave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: It's not innuendo.Dave Strider truly is a Jedi jouster. At least he has a sword and he's in the future, dabbling in the seedy underworld of street jousting. Throw yourself on a speeder bike and hurtle towards your opponent's sword at umpteen miles per hour. What isn't truly innovative and logical about this sport!?Karkat Vantas, meanwhile, is an Alternian with a pointed disdain for his planet's violent culture. After being dragged to one too many arena fights by his Alternian Culture Club from school, he takes things into his own hands. He intends to create a news report on the horrors of arena fighting. What he gets...Well, he'll certainly get something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> also introducing anachronistic musical references
> 
> if you don't like the monospace feel free to ignore author styling, which turns it off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ _surprise it's cowboy bebop_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YncNm0WQY2I)

**[From the audio records of Karkat Karuna Vantas. It is Friday, January 2 nd, 2071.]**

"It's dark as _fuck_ down here. How the hell do you see a goddamned thing!? You could stab your own foot off with a misplaced lightsaber in this— AH! Fuck! Fuck! There goes one! I just have to move over this... little... piece of shit. And we're... Ignore the shuffling. I'm turning on my flashlight and let's see what we've got down here."

[There's a pause. A click. A period of silence.]

"Well, the walls are slimy as hell. Sabers and shit—like, literal shit—all of it's everywhere. How anyone can live like this baffles me. It just blows my fucking mind. Clearly, no one wants to be doing this. If they did, they'd at least pick up their fucking battle armor and robes. I mean... We've got underwear and robes and wet, bloodstained tunics all over the place. It's depressing. Disgusting. If I had a video camera, this would look like some sort of wild party shit. No. Not a party. This is the house _after_ the party. And make that a homecoming game for the Alternian College Football League team. And they won. You've got the piles and piles of excrement. Fresh, feculent shit forming delicate stalactites of disgusting waste. Alcoholic beverages crushed and discarded like used tissues in a daycare during cold season. This is a fucking disaster waiting to—SHIT!"

[More silence. Heavy breathing. In a lowered voice, Karkat continues,] "We seem to have run into one of the competitors. And... um... This is fucking awkward." [The narrative voice lowers even more.] "Blond douchebag. Stupid, ugly, tinted black goggles and a garish red cape. Looks to me like he's just gotten back from the field..."

[A harsh gasp. Another voice interrupts, this one tinged with a thick southern American accent. The voice of a young, not-quite-grizzled cowboy. There's an odd, electronic buzzing beneath it. You can't exactly say it sounds unnatural, but it doesn't sound like most human voices you've heard. Then again, having grown up in a mostly Alternian neighborhood, you never really got to hear a lot of Human voices.] "I can hear you, jackass."

[A sound like someone sucking a lemon.] "Um... Hey. My name is..." [A loud huff as the speaker clears their throat.] "I'm Karkat Karuna Vantas, a student of the nearby Galactic Alliance College. I'm here for a newspaper article about the Alternian preoccupation with excessive violence and—" [The more you speak without any conversational return, the softer your usually raucous voice becomes. It dies down.]

[Now, there's silence. Awkward, awkward silence. Until, finally, static-laden old speakers crackle to life.] "Next opponent to report to the arena battlefield. Usual rules."

[A few more seconds of silence. Then, as quietly as is possibly for a certain Karkat Vantas, some narration is provided.] "Okay. That went fucking well. I'm getting out of here before I get arrested. Tune in next time for the Alternian Cultural Analysis podcast."

* * *

**Your name is Karkat Vantas...**

Right now, you're in a run-down college town café. You're with Sollux, one of your Alternian friends, and his eyes have been locked on the same spot for the past twenty minutes.

Figuring you might as well look, you found yourself looking at a vaguely familiar man with blond hair, tinted douchebag glasses, and a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Dude. KK. Do you know who that is?" Sollux, with his characteristic lisp, whispers excitedly. You, naturally, do not know this answer. You remain silent to humor him.

"That's Arena Star Dave Strider, KK." Dear Gog, he's practically vibrating now. Sollux might be your friend, but you can still confidently say that he's just as weird as the rest of them. What with their weird boners for fighting and blood sport. "I need his autograph." He fumbles, knocks over his drink, but still manages to pull a chewed up pen and a dry note card from his pockets. "KK, you should go get me his autograph."

Now, you scoff. "Why do I have to do it?"

"To fulfill your quadrant roles," Sollux says, shoving the note card and pen into your hands. Then, shoving you forcefully by the back, he concludes, "Do it for the Internet kudos, KK."

"You've got to be higher than the fucking weather balloons these fucking paranoid sacks of water called humans refer to as spaceships if you think I'm doing anything of the—"

Another shove interrupts you. You end up sprawled out on the stranger's table like some sort of drunken miscreant. It sure is one hell of a blessing that trolls can't blush, because you'd be red as a... as a... you believe they're called beets. You'd be red as a beet. And, in fact, you feel like turning into a beet—being an unassuming food product would be better than this. Then, there's the way he's staring at you. His now slightly askew shades reveal furrowed brows and an overall expression that just screams "I will fucking murder you for this." The edges of his lips twitch, as if trying to form a devilish frown. In your mind's eye, you can see it. You can see your doom.  _You're too young to die._ And it sure as fuck can't end like this.

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You drop the paper and pen in front of the jackass and loudly declare your intentions. After all, humans don't kill things they deem as nonthreatening (most of the time, you think). "My fucking piss puddle of a friend back there," you say, gesturing towards Sollux, "Said something about you being some big fucking deal in the arena community. Apparently, you're all that and a bag of deep-fried squid testicles or something. I don't fucking know. The point is that he wanted your autograph, he pushed me, and I fell on your table." With this, you breathe out. You've gotten that much off your chest.

And, yet, he simply continues to stare at you. He taps his fingers against the wooden surface in front of him, and it's only then that you realize that you've managed to send his carbonated beverage everywhere.

"Shit. I can pay for another one," you lie. "I'll pay for a whole fucking round of that bubbly shit you humans seem so intrigued with." For some reason, your gaze slides towards the note card. It's been signed in tight, sharp-edged red ink. In fact, it looks a bit like blood. And, beneath that, is a simple message.  _"To Sollux. Your friend ruined my eggs. Congrats."_

Naturally, you take this opportunity to awkwardly bow to the apparent arena star—that  _is_ what humans do when they're showing respect, right?—and snag the autograph. As you near Sollux, you grab him by the shoulder and drag him towards the door. "We're leaving before he actually wants that extra soda. You owe me, jerk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you see any typos, please let me know :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, feedback, suggestions, and all that are welcome!


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